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‘I think it’s possible that you may be anaemic,’ Zan was saying as she delved into the bag for a blood-pressure cuff. ‘That basically means that your blood isn’t carrying enough oxygen. It can happen very easily when you’re pregnant, especially if you don’t eat properly.’
Carlo blinked with admiration. So she’d homed in on the same problem immediately.
She checked Kelly’s blood pressure and then glanced at Mike. ‘I really want to take a blood sample, Mike.’
‘No way.’ His tone was unfriendly. ‘I’m not having you sticking needles in her. Just do what you have to do and leave.’
Zan’s expression was understanding. ‘I’m just trying to help her, Mike. She’s thirty-four weeks pregnant. If she is anaemic then that could be the reason she’s so tired, and we need to get it sorted out before she has the baby. I want to check the iron levels in her blood.’
‘No needles.’ Mike moved towards Zan and Carlo took a step forward, ready to intervene.
No way was that thug going any nearer to Zan.
‘If you’ve got iron in your bag then just give it to her,’ Carlo said smoothly, and three pairs of eyes turned to look at him.
‘There’s a strong chance that you are anaemic, and obviously we’d like to check that out.’ He spoke directly to Kelly. ‘But if you’d rather we didn’t then the next best thing is to just give you the iron.’
‘Will it hurt the baby?’
‘It could hurt you if you don’t have it,’ Carlo said gently. ‘Being pregnant and giving birth to a child place huge demands on your body. We need to correct it or you could have problems during your delivery and you’ll be exhausted afterwards. When you come into the hospital we—’
‘She ain’t coming into the hospital!’ Mike growled, and Zan cleared her throat.
‘Don’t let’s worry about that now. You’ve got my number, and you know that I’ll deliver Kelly any time you want me to, anywhere you want me to, but we really do need her to take some iron.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of tablets. ‘Will you take one a day for me?’
Kelly glanced at Mike for approval before taking the bottle, and he gave a brief nod.
‘And now can I just check the position of the baby?’
‘Not with him in the room.’ Mike glared at Carlo, who strolled towards the living-room door immediately.
‘I’ll wait in the hallway.’
Whatever had happened to the man to make him so suspicious?
Five minutes later Zan called him back in.
Her eyes were troubled as they met his. ‘I don’t think the baby is growing quite as fast as it should—She’s small for thirty-four weeks.’
Carlo lifted his eyes to Mike. ‘Can I examine her?’
‘No!’
‘Mike, please?’ Zan’s voice was soft and reassuring and Mike hesitated, his jaw set.
Finally he nodded. ‘All right.’ He glared at Carlo. ‘But I’m watching you.’
‘That’s fine.’ Carlo moved his hands skilfully over the mother’s abdomen, thinking that he’d never seen such a half-starved waif in his life. Normally he dealt with the pamp
ered wives of the hideously wealthy, and the contrast was extreme. As he examined the girl he realised just how bored he’d become, working in his world-famous Women’s Unit in Milan. The case he was seeing now presented so much more of a challenge, both medically and socially.
‘Well?’
Mike was looking at him threateningly and Carlo picked up the tape measure that Zan had used and measured Kelly from the top of the bump to her pelvic bone. The measurement was supposed to correlate roughly to the number of weeks of pregnancy, but in this case Zan was right. The baby seemed small.
‘Do you smoke?’
Kelly shook her head, but her eyes slid nervously to Mike and Carlo deduced that the man probably smoked heavily and that she was therefore subjecting the baby to passive smoking.
